“How can you watch all that smash and bash stuff, grampa,” my fifteen-year old granddaughter crabbed.
Hey, it was the Detroit Lions, half way through the season, finally making a comeback in the standing and very much worth following. “Because I’m a caveman,” I replied.
“Huh?”
“Yeah, you’ve seen those wall paintings in caves where some guys charge the prey and other guys come in from both sides. It’s basic strategy. Get your team on the same page working together to bring down the beast…aww, c’mon,” I moaned glaring at the TV, “that wasn’t a foul.”
“See,” Joanna allowed, “you seem like such a cool guy every time I see you. But on football Sunday you get all happy or sad depending on who wins. What’s that about?”
There was a commercial break so I decided to explain. “We all got caveman inside us. We don’t go around bashing other people…
Ha!
…most of the time. But basically, we all want to stay alive. To protect our homes and families. It’s a basic instinct.”
“So, all these guys, wearing weird colored uniforms and special armor, bash and thrash one another and that makes us feel good?
“If we win…otherwise it reminds us to stay alert and keep fighting because life is a fragile thing.”
“Really? If they’re about staying alive and gaining yards and scoring big, why do they have to look like its Halloween with all that colorful armor?”
“So you can tell one team from another. Who you are against. Who you have to beat.”
“Sounds like the evening political news.”
“Well at least this only lasts one hour and sixteen games over a short season and based on where you live, usually.”
“Hey, it sounds more like war.”
“I suppose. But it is a little more civilized than that.
“How so?”
The game was back on. “More Later. In the meantime, think about the Middle ages and Crusades and knights in shining armor and castles and jousting matches. There’s only a short window when guys are at their peak and competitive and able to protect the rest of us us who can only cheer them on. That’s where fans come in. We support our local team. We wear their colors in hats and jackets. It’s a throwback process, a survival instinct—supporting local talent in the ongoing battles of ‘them versus us.’
Speaking of survival, when’s lunch?
Retired trainer, and writing instructor, Joe Novara lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Writings include novels, short stories, a memoir and various poems, plays, anthologies and articles. Read more at https://freefloatingstories.wordpress.com/
